


Hawk's Soul

by rebelkitty84



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Animagus, General Magical Mayhem, M/M, Past Non Con reference (non explicit), SHIELD are dicks, Soul Bond, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Weasley Bashing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-16 13:24:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11253855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelkitty84/pseuds/rebelkitty84
Summary: Disillusioned with the Magical World, hurt by those he considered family and looking for his Soulmate... Harry goes out into the world looking for adventure.As always it finds him first.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Mentions of potions induced romantic/sexual relationships.  
> As a survivor I consider this date rape and realise it can be triggering. References are oblique and any mention throughout story with be completely none graphic, however I've labelled it as content for those who are sensitive.

Chapter 1

Harry Potter was beyond weary.

This wasn't how he had pictured his life.

After defeating Voldemort it should have been easy! He had it all planned out!

Sit his NEWTs, become an Auror, marry... Ginny probably... have kids and see them off to Hogwarts in their turn.

A future of a reasonably exciting job, Sunday lunches with his family and friends, laughter, children and peace...

However what he had gotten... was his 'best friend' and his 'best friend's sister' ending up arrested due to use of class one love potions, Hermione had fled to Australia in her anger and grief - theoretically to find her parents but Harry seriously doubted that she would ever come home.

He couldn't blame her... They had just found out Ron and Ginny had been using potions to control and rape them for months, years!

Thankfully being Lord Potter meant something, even as a Half-blood, the title of 'Man-Who-Conquered' probably helped.

Harry had thrown both his political weight and considerable funds at the Wizengamot and had both his and Hermione's marriages annulled.

He had also thrown a lot of effort into getting all love potions classified as a class one restricted potion, outlawed and possession, brewing and sale thereof an instant twenty year Azkaban sentence.

Initially he had met with resistance, the other members of the Wizengamot not understanding why he had a problem with them, after all they were 'harmless', a bit of fun and a way to get the attention of someone you admired...

Until Harry pointed out that they took away your ability to choose, make conscious decisions about who you had a relationship with. It lead to marriages, babies and after years of abuse it caused untold damage to people's ability to genuinely feel emotions.

He had only just got out in time... But for others there was no telling how many marriages had been made because someone was drugged into compliance...

"They are the potions equivalent to the Imperius Curse!" Harry shouted in anger as he defended his case "A curse so foul we sentence people to life in a demon infested hell without possibility of release... Why? Because they took away their victim's free will!

How many Wizards or Witches have managed to marry into an Ancient House far above them, have a child against the will of someone else? How many of those _whirlwind_ romances that parents disapproved of are actually cases of line theft?!

 

And think about your children, grandchildren. They are all vulnerable to being _raped_ , force to bear or father children _against their will ~~~~_because someone finds them attractive."

 

Harry was truly magnificent in the stand as he spoke out against the evils of such mind altering substances.

 

The new laws and restrictions had then passed without further argument, the majority of the other members horrified by the comparison.

However due to the years of potions damage, even though the healers had removed all traces from his system, Harry was no longer allowed to be an Auror.

Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt had been very apologetic but the rules were clear. Harry was now very vulnerable to potions that altered both his mood and his perception due to over exposure. He was no longer reliable as an impartial witness in regards to legal matters.

As it was the young Potter Lord spent several hundred galleons on getting some runic tattoos that protected him from most potions and poisons, he had to willingly and knowingly ingest them to bypass the protections.

They weren't foolproof though, so though they were enough to let him keep his seat on the Wizengamot and for daily life... his dream career was now out of reach.

Of course this had also been splashed all over the Daily Prophet. Merlin forbid he get any privacy!

Harry had just about had enough.

Not that leaving to live among the Muggles would be an easy matter either.

After ten years spent mostly in the wizarding world - between Hogwarts and the years after - Harry was very disconnected from the muggle world. It had all moved on so fast!

Not that he'd been exposed to that much of it while living in Durzkaban either...

That made it difficult to just disappear into the muggle world without a trace. He would have to do some fairly intensive study of his old world before he could just blend in again.

One thing that had happened in his post-potion training and rehabilitation was he had discovered several skills that had been blocked by the cocktail of behaviour modifiers he had been on.

Nothing overly major, his concentration improved, his general health, his parselmagic came back - along with his ability to speak parsel-tongue and finally he received the Potter's famed ability of being a naturally skilled Animagus.

He still had to learn, it wasn't like an automatic skill, but it only took a few weeks rather than the months or even years that those few with the ability normally took to master the spellwork.

He had been pleased to discover his form was that of a bird of prey. A species found through several parts of Britain though on the at risk list so only rarely spotted.

As a Marsh Harrier, Harry was the largest of the Harrier hawks. His body compact and sturdy, covered in dense, russet feathers and flecked with black. His wings spanned just under one and a half metres and were black tipped and his distinctive 'V' shaped tail was broad and balanced him perfectly.

He could hover, fly vast distances using air currents and plummet after prey at incredible speeds - hunting small mammals on the ground and birds on the wing.

After the drama that was his personal life, Harry found the freedom of his Animagus form a delightful freedom.

It was this sense of freedom that gave him his latest harebrained idea.

He bought a specially commissioned storage bracelet that could hold his wand and a trunk. It fitted to his ankle and when he shifted to his hawk form it shrunk with him and to any prying eyes looked like a tagging band used by ornithologists.

In it he packed the Hallows (they would just follow him anyway), food, clothing, books, an extensive medicinal potions library - because seriously, Harry was well aware of his own brand of luck... a wizarding space tent and several books on customs and world geography.

If he was going globe trotting...winging? Then he was going in style.

With that Harry locked up Grimmauld Place, set the wards and headed out, only pausing to drop off letters with Gringotts, authorising them to manage his portfolio, visiting George at his shop and Neville to make sure his friends wouldn't worry.

He stopped by Andromeda Tonk's flat to leave a care package for Teddy Lupin. Andy still refused to see him and wouldn't allow him to spend time with his Godson outside the court ordered visitation during the major holidays but he held out hope that one day she would forgive him the loss of her family.

Sighing sadly he turned from the door, he had to leave his sadness behind him and embrace this new adventure.

This would be a great adventure... and since he would be avoiding wizards and all their drama... what could possibly go wrong?

 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Clint Barton cursed every deity he could name.

He also damned his client, his target and the entire country of Germany to the very depths of hell.

After weeks of research he had identified his target's routines and when the best time to strike would be. In fact, it was pretty much the only time due to the man's extensive protection detail and a very diligent adherence to a protected route.

Herr Kepler would only be in the graveyard for a few minutes, he walked through every third Tuesday of the month and spent a few moments at his mother's grave. Clint would have seconds to take his shot and make his escape before the protection detail caught up with him.

He could honestly say that this was one hit that he had no qualms over taking though.

Despite making his living as a mercenary, a killer for hire more often than not, Clint was quite choosy about his jobs.

In spite of his young age, his amazing skills meant he was highly sought after and able to be quite discerning. He tended to only go after those he saw as deserving his attention.

Drug barons, crime lords, pimps, war lords, terrorists, people running child prostitution runs or trading people in slavery.... He had personally removed some of the worst human filth from the planet, and generally was very well played for it too.

Okay, often the people paying him were almost as bad, they were regularly the 'competition' of his targets. Then again many clients were the grieving or vengeful families of victims or even the victims themselves after the law had let them down.

Take Herr Kepler here. He had successfully built an empire based on slave labour in third world countries and imported their cheaply produced goods.

His fortune had lead to him becoming a big figure in the political scene, hence his protection detail, his money and power had also bought his way out of a rape and murder charge two years previously.

Kepler's girlfriend of the time had been found brutally beaten and raped, she had survived long enough to accuse him but died in hospital. Kepler was cleared due to a lack of evidence and a somewhat shaky alibi.

However his girlfriend's father had deep pockets and a deep thirst for revenge.

He had waited to divert suspicion and while he found the best man to do the job. It had taken two years but it was worth it.

Clint shifted minutely, he was perched on a tree branch, hidden from prying eyes. He had an arrow nocked and ready to draw as soon as his target was in range.

It was a hell of a calling card, using a bow and arrow in this day and age. In fact Clint only used his favourite weapon for cases like this, when he fancied himself to be righting a wrong.

For his less savoury jobs he stuck to a range of untraceable guns, easily discarded in fast flowing water or otherwise destroyed.

This, this was a case for the bow. He had been developing a reputation as almost a vigilante with the various international law enforcement agencies thanks to his unique signature and the types of people he had killed.

He was still a wanted man... But to be honest most agencies probably weren't looking too hard...

Clint shook himself and focused, it was almost time. He subtly stretched out and warmed his muscles as best he could, he would have to move fast.

Herr Kepler bent over the grave... and fell... a carbon fibre arrow tipped with a barbed hunting head through his heart. He was dead before he hit the ground. The white synthetic fletching quivering with the force of the strike.

His protection detail reacted with the speed and accuracy of a precision strike team.

They swarmed over the area, closing down access points with a swift efficiency. By the time Clint had stripped his bow and packed everything into his compact carrying tube for a speedy exit, he was surrounded.

Thanking his lucky stars for the gymnastics and acrobatics training he received in the circus... he set to work on getting out of there.

He leapt through the trees with a skill and grace that his pursuers may have admired had they not been shooting at him.

Clint pulled his side arm, a modified Sig, and started firing back. These men were a legitimate team assigned to protect a member of the German government, he had no wish to kill them unless necessary and so was using knock-out darts to merely incapacitate them.

In his efforts to escape with no further casualties he took one too many risks. Clint leapt for a branch and was shot by one of the detail that he had failed to spot on their mad chase through the trees.

Thankfully the bullet hit him in the ribs, impacting firmly on the lightweight StarkTech bullet proof vest he wore, he was bruised, maybe even a cracked rib... But nothing major. More seriously though it caused him to miss his landing and fall directly in front of the pursuing man.

Clint rolled to his feet and raised his hands somewhat hopelessly. It was obvious the man didn't realise his comrades were simply unconscious and not dead, Clint didn't speak much German - enough to get by but certainly not fluent - but it seemed he would not be getting out of this alive.

Just as his opponent went to fire they heard a furious screech and a bird seemingly appeared from nowhere.

The russet coloured hawk plummeted from above the trees and raked its talons across the gunman's eyes. With another keeing cry it banked to attack again. The protection agent had fallen back, blood pouring from the wounds on his face. He fired in desperation and the hawk screamed in pain, falling from the air in an uncoordinated bundle of feathers and blood.

Clint took the opportunity to hit the man with his final tranquilliser dart. He was astonished, why had the hawk attacked the other man?

He had to leave, there were sirens approaching rapidly.

To his amazement the hawk cried out and tried to stand - it was alive! As it moved he could see a glint of silver around one leg. It seemed to have an identification ring of some kind.

Clint decided to take a risk - the crazy bird had saved his life after all - he took his jacket and wrapped the injured hawk in it before once more running through the trees, removing his mask and stowing it in his bag.

He managed to slip out and join the chaos outside the cemetary - his bags disguised as a backpack and a camera bag. With his bullet vest stowed and sunglasses on and a guidebook in hand he was once again an American tourist blending in with the crowds.

The way he held his coat bundled was a little unusual but the hawk had gone very still and quiet. Clint was worried that the bird was dying, his quick look had revealed the bullet wound was in the wing, it was very messy and looked terrible.

His only option was to find a vet. Lord knows how he would explain a bullet wound on a bird of prey...

He soon reached the side street where he had parked his nondescript rental car. For safeties sake he drove to the next major city.

Once they arrived in Munich Clint used his cell to find the nearest vet who would deal with wild or exotic animals.

Thankfully the receptionist spoke English and he was able to seek aid for the bird who had saved his life.

"Guten tag, umn... Thank you" Clint walked into the vets office with the hawk once again bundled in his arms. "I found it in the park, can you look at it? Help it maybe?"

"Ja, let's look and see shall we?" The vet was a elderly gentleman, grizzled and dour.

He gently unwrapped the hawk and shook his head at the sight. The bird lay limp and unresisting in his hands. This didn't look good.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Harry was having the time of his life.

Okay, so he was confusing the bird watchers throughout Europe... But he was having a blast.

Due to his bracelet most of the spotters were convinced he was a hand reared bird escaped from a collection. Harry had taken to reading several of the bird spotting magazines to follow the theories and would sit in his tent with a pint, cackling at the articles.

He was now travelling through Germany, flying until he spotted anything he fancied exploring and then enjoying exploring Muggle style.

He had decided to explore Rosenheim, a beautiful place with many interesting museums.

The animagus was flying between one of the many wooded parks and a magnificent cemetary when there was a gunshot and he saw a blond man fall from a tree.

Another man then burst from the brush and aimed a handgun at the blond. Even as the fallen man stood up and raised his hands it was obvious the gunman was going to shoot.

Harry folded his wings and plummeted through the branches, screaming with anger as he flung his wings out to brake sharply and rake at the gunman's eyes with his talons.

Banking sharply away Harry cried out victoriously, urging the blond to run - forgetting for the moment that he wasn't speaking English.

He never saw the gunman recover or take aim so when the bullet tore through his wing. With a cry of pain he tumbled through the air and landed with a bone jarring thud.

By the time he came back to himself the gunman was somehow unconscious. Keening to himself Harry tried to get to his feet. If he could get his bracelet off he could activate the emergency charms, even in his hawk form. In there he could get his healing potions.

Before the injured wizard could do anything he was enveloped in a soft, dark cloth. He briefly struggled, screeching angrily. However when his injured wing strained against his prison he was overcome with pain and passed out.

\----

Harry bad no idea how long he had been in transit, he woke as the wrappings were removed.

The pain was almost unbearable. He tried to struggle but felt so tired. Despite the presence of the muggles he tried to change back to his human form. That was a foolish decision.

He screamed in renewed pain, still in his hawk form. He had forgotten that the shift was impossible when severely injured.

Flapping his good wing he ripped out of the hands that cradled him. Slashing with his wickedly hooked beak he cried out his distress.

\----

The vet called out in shock as the limp bird in his hand suddenly revived and attacked his hand. He just managed to escape injury thanks to many years of experience with injured and frightened animals.

He quickly restrained the poor creature and wrapped a bandage over its eyes. It calmed quickly with a questioning chirrup.

He was able to then actually examine the injured hawk safely.

The young American who had brought the poor creature to him seemed distraught by the pained noises and distress the bird showed.

The vet was pleased to meet someone who cared so much. He was also encouraged to see the fight returning in his patient. He wasn't sure what species the bird was but it seemed to be some form of Harrier Hawk, very similar but slightly different to the Hen Harrier found in isolated pockets nearby.

From the size and markings he would guess a male, but without knowing the species for sure he couldn't be certain.

The identification ring would indicate that it was an escapee, perhaps from the zoo or one of the raptor parks.

His wing was a mess. Thankfully the bullet wound was through the flesh only though his humerus was broken - probably from his crash landing.

The vet used a gas box to sedate the hawk for x-rays. This allowed him to realign and set the delicate wing as well as clean and dress the wound.

After double checking the dosage he administered a subcutaneous injection with a hefty dose of pain relief, anti-inflamatory and antibiotic medication.

The wing was dressed and strapped to his body to keep the newly set bone immobilised. He now had a new dilemma... What to do with the young bird while he healed?

His clinic was not geared towards caring for a bird of prey, perhaps he could contact the zoo? They would maybe be able to take the unusual hawk in, even if he wasn't an escapee from there.

He was interrupted by the blond American tourist.

"Well Doc, what's the prognosis? Will the lil' guy recover?"" He asked, worry colouring his tone.

"He is very verletzt... ah... injured. He will be in much pain for some time to come" the vet replied "He needs much rest and to eat. This will help him heal and grow strong. Now it is the task to find a correct carer to look after him while he heals. Perhaps the zoo"

"No!" Clint almost shouted on desperation.

He had no idea why he didn't want to be parted from the bird. He had to get out of Germany and fast, surely he had gone above and beyond any duty to the hawk? Why not let the zoo take it?

Perhaps it was his own wandering nature but he couldn't bear to think of the proud and fierce creature locked up in a cage for the rest of its life. Even half drugged, blindfolded and bandaged up like a half assed mummy he still looked ready for a fight. He was scrappy and Clint could respect that.

"What I mean is, Doc, I have some experience with wild animals. I'd like to try caring for him, he deserves to be free, less'n someone's actually reported him lost. I can pay for his meds and I will make sure he gets his check ups..." Clint widened his eyes and looked as earnest as possible. "Honest Doc, I feel obligated here"

The vet looked at the young man doubtfully. He was clearly earnest in his desire to help the bird and he had seemed confident when handling it. But this was not some pet parrot, the hawk needed an experienced handler to recover. Then again, he was the one paying the bill and there was no 'look-out' report issued to request vets in the area to report any raptors - the usual practice in case of a legal bird escaping or otherwise becoming lost.

"Very well. I must ask you to fill out these forms. As he is a none native raptor you are to take him to the zoo for identification and complete the registration as his owner. They will fit him with a microchip and provide you with the relevent papers so you may take him out the country. He must see a vet in seven days for further assessment and treatment.

The antibiotic I gave him is a long acting one but from tomorrow you must give him these pills wrapped in meat. They are more antibiotics and schmerzmittel...ah... pain...relievers? He will need one of each two times a day for fourteen days. Yes, I think I can trust you." The vet looked at Clint over his glasses, smirking as he saw the American pull out a notepad and write down the instructions he had been given, his face and actions completely serious.

Clint spent the rest of his day filling out forms and arranging to purchase a specialised transport crate with perch for his new companion. The falconers at the zoo had identified the bird as a juvinile Marsh Harrier, a British bird of prey and quite rare. No database recognised his leg ring though so they came to the conclusion he was an illegally kept pet that had escaped somewhere in Europe. In fact they were fairly certain he was the same bird that had featured in several Ornithology magazines as having been spotted across much of France and Germany.

Due to the leg ring tracing back to no-one they simply tooke the engraved details from it and entered them onto the forms for Clint. He decided to use his real name in a rare moment of bravado while registering his new pet - that way he wasn't linked to any of the young American's more criminal identities.

When it came to naming the bird he could only think of one name.

His education had been haphazard at best between the circus and his less than stellar family - but thanks to one of the acts when he was around ten Clint had developed a deep and abiding love for ancient mythology. 'Princess Tzara The Mystic' had taught him about the Ancient Egyptians, the Greeks, the Romans and the Celts and it was from her lessons he drew his inspiration.

And thus his new friend was named Horus and the registration papers naming one Clinton Francis Barton as his legal owner.

Now to get him healed and figure out what to do from there...

 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Nick Fury was ready to break something, or maybe someone.

"I am supposedly in charge of the greatest intellegence agency on the planet. In fact when I was put in charge of SHIELD by Peggy Carter I was told that the resources of the agency meant that we could track down anyone at any time thanks to the world wide access to bank accounts, CCTV and other surveilance technology. If someone turned on a TV, used a phone, accessed the internet, bought travel tickets or used a bank - we could find them.

Then why" he turned on his hapless agent "can't we find this vigilante you have spent the last year tracking. This... Hawkeye... I believe he's been codenamed?"

"He's... disappeared... Sir" Agent Phil Coulson picked up the file from the desk "We had eyes on him in Germany. Facial recognition failed to identify him due to the wrap around shades and his apparent awareness of all street cameras in his vicinity.

"However we do have copies of the identity he used for renting the hire car he used. The photo attached comes back to a college student in the UK called Colin Wentworth but the ID is Patrick Henderson of Beacon Hills, California. Obviously the photo must look enough like him to have been missed by the rental agent.

"I have found a passport using the same name and photo flying into Washington Dulles today, that's two weeks after the assassination of Herr Kepler. The date of birth and expiration on the passport shows that the photo is 'apparently' quite old which would allow for several minor discrepancies as far as those inspecting IDs are concerned. It does match what we know of his appearance though that the target is in his mid to late 20's, blond Caucasian with grey-blue eyes.

"After the assassination of Herr Kepler the target drove to Munich. We lost him for several hours due to a glitch in their CCTV, he was spotted on the cameras briefly near the zoo and near some museums. Possibly merely sightseeing or looking to see if he was followed.

"Over the course of the next two weeks the target was spotted at the zoo, various travel agents, three banks but we were unable to ascertain which accounts he accessed and two separate hotels.

"There's currently no known reason for the delay in leaving Germany, the target normally flees the country within twenty-four hours of a hit.

"After his arrival in Dulles airport he simply disappeared. I have teams scouring the footage to see where we lost him in the crowds but until one of the identies we have flagged for him shows up or a new identity using the photo of 'Mr Wentworth' surfaces I'm afraid we can't find him Sir"

Fury snarled as he turned on his agent.

"I don't care what it takes Coulson. This man is too much of a risk with his skillset. You find him and either bring him into the fold or remove him from the equation. Either way he isn't going to be a wildcard any more. With Kepler dead we have lost a valuable chance at getting a man into the STV. The Schwarzwald Technologie Verband are a huge threat to our national security and we need to infiltrate them and this vigilante has cost me five years of hard work!"

"Sir...I..." Phil gathered his papers.

"No excuses Agent Coulson. I want that man under our control or under the ground!"

"Yes Sir" the stressed looking agent took his files and left, frowning thoughtfully.

He didn't think a termination order was validated in this case. The young assassin was a strictly moral killer, in fact every single kill that SHIELD had been able to trace back to him had been a criminal so despicable that sanctioned hits had been ordered, or were in the process of being ordered, in almost every case. The few that weren't actively being hunted? Were being electronically stalked to try take down even bigger prey.

 

Phil desperately wanted to find 'Hawkeye' and try recruit him. He had a great respect for the young marksman and for the ethics that he showed.

 

Quite frankly SHIELD needed more men with that degree of moral fibre, too many agents blindly followed orders and, looking at the meagre file on this young man, Phil had the feeling this was one man who would do what was  _right_  not just because he was  _ordered_. 

 

Honestly, it would be refreshing to work with someone so  _just._

 

Now... Just to find the man...

 

As if to answer his prayers a flag popped up on screen. Facial recognition had found him at the Specialist Luggage collection point... For pet collection? He was  _still at the airport!!!_ It had been  _hours_ since his flight landed! Something must be wrong.

 

Phil watched, baffled, as the suspect tried to collect a very strange crate. Tall and narrow it certainly wasn't a standard dog or cat carrier.

 

He stood, collecting his jacket on the way out the door.

 

The manifesto already on his phone, he headed for the airport. He needed all the details from that crate.

 

Species, address and quarantine status being most important.

 

This was it, he had his man at long last!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, formatting went a bit weird, ended up deleting and reposting the chapter

Clint scrubbed a hand through his short hair and paced up and down the small waiting area. What was taking them so long? Apart from Horus he only had a small carry on bag, his archery gear was being shipped home in a fake sporting supply shopping order, this should have been quick!

 

Three other passengers had already collected their various happy dogs.

 

Finally a luggage clerk came back.

 

“Mr Patrick Henderson?” She called.

 

“Yo” Clint stood, passport and flight paperwork in hand, including the shipping slip he had filled out in Frankfurt for Horus.

 

“Mr Henderson, I'm afraid there's been a problem with the paperwork you filled out when you booked the animal on this flight...” the clerk looked at him over the clipboard. “You stated that you, Mr Patrick M Henderson of Beacon Hills, California, are the owner of this bird ah… Horus… a Marsh Harrier Hawk… yes?”

 

“Yeah? And?” Clint felt his stomach plummet.

 

“Well, I'm sure you understand Sir, we have to confirm these things” the clerk's clipped and precise tone was beginning to grate “But we have scanned Horus’ microchip and checked his identity tag, standard procedure of course… and they do not come back in your name Sir. Have you only recently come into possession of this bird Sir?”

 

Clint felt the blood drain from his face. Oh God! He'd not thought this through.

 

“Y-yeah, I just got him.” Shit, not even like the vet or zoo could help now.

 

“Well, do you perhaps have a bill of sale or the contact details of the previous owner so that we might confirm that you are indeed the current owner of this bird Mr Henderson? We can only release him to the custody of his legal owner you see. It's standard…”

 

“Practice… Yeah I know...uh no, no I don't have a receipt. He was a gift, ya know? A friend was the one who rescued him, he's hurt… that's why he's bandaged up. I've got a letter here from the vet oh, and his meds! He needs these soon” Clint felt sick, sure he was calm under fire and in near death experiences but for some reason he was a wreck separated from Horus! “Only, uh, I was coming home and his other owner asked me to bring him back… the vets in Germany are great ya know? But we don't speak the lingo so wanted him home and see someone we trusted”

 

“Mr Henderson, can I or can I not speak to Mr Barton?” The clerk was looking impatient now.

 

“Not right now!” Clint rubbed his face again, he had been waiting hours, had been on the flight for hours and still had a ways to go. “Look, just give me my bird, at the very least let me see him and give him his medicine… he doesn't have time for this bureaucratic bullshit!”

 

“Sir!” The clerk looked scandalised but started to walk off. “Very well, you may see to the hawk's medical needs but you will not be permitted to leave until this matter is resolved, I hope you understand?”

 

“Fine” Clint bit out. At this point all he wanted was to see Horus.

 

\------

 

Harry was keening quietly, he had been trapped for what seemed like forever in his hawk form.

 

This man, Clint, had been taking good care of him, but Harry was tired of the pain, of feeling trapped. He hadn't been able to access his magical healing supplies, surrounded as he was by Muggles, and the non-magical healing was slow and painful.

 

He wasn't able to escape though.

 

And now, he had been hooded and put in a small bumpy box on a perch for what seemed like days, no food or water.

 

He had been given food and pain relief at the start of the journey but it had worn off long ago.

 

Harry keened his pain and distress. Where was Clint? He had always brought relief so quickly before! After an eternity he heard his Muggle friend’s voice.

 

“See lady? That is a bird in distress! Your paper pushing nonsense has caused him suffering and I hope you feel damned guilty about it!” Clint was furious.

 

Opening the crate he shushed the distressed hawk, quickly opening the chill pack attached to the tall crate and pulling out a thawed chick. He pushed an antibiotic tablet and two pain pills into the throat of the fuzzy yellow body whilst taking the hood off his feathered companion.

 

“Hey there buddy, hey Horus” he crooned softly. “I'm sorry bud, they stopped me coming. Come on now, eat up. It will make you feel better”

 

Harry ate the chick, still astonished at how quickly he had adapted to eating in his animagus form. He drank his fill from the cup of water that the archer offered too.

 

The young wizard rubbed the side of his viciously hooked beak against his current guardian’s fingers and 'kree’d’ softly. He wanted out of this crate.

 

At least in the hospital wing of the zoo in Munich there had been birds and people to watch.

 

He couldn't wait until he was able to fly again, then, even though it would pain him to leave his new friend, he could change back to his human form and leave.

 

Harry didn't know why, but the thought of leaving Clint brought a sharp pain to his breast.

 

Meanwhile Clint was arguing with the clerk again.

 

“Look, it's obvious he knows me! Just let me take my bird and leave!”

 

“Mr Henderson! It's not just the matter of ownership. You have yet to provide any evidence that you are licensed in the state of Maryland, the state of Virginia or the District of Columbia to own an endangered, non indigenous species bird of prey or whether this animal was legally procured from it's native land! We are legally obliged to report any suspicious transportation of endangered species under CITES - and as you are no doubt  _ fully  _ aware  _ Sir _ it is illegal to sell or transport protected species without license!” The clerk huffed as they were interrupted.

 

A man of medium height in an unassuming blue suit entered the offices, having bypassed the waiting area.

 

“Sir! This area isn't open to unaccompanied members of the public! Please wait in the waiting area and someone will be with you as soon as possible.” She scowled as he merely raised an eyebrow.

 

“Ma’am, I'm here on official business” Phil Coulson tried to keep his attention on her, handing over his Homeland Security identify. After all, most civilians had no idea S.H.I.E.L.D event existed, no need to change that now.

 

He couldn't believe it! Really! After over a year of rumours, surveillance, chasing shadows… he had caught up with the elusive assassin codenamed 'Hawkeye’.

 

Stunningly the man actually appeared to own a bird of prey, a particularly vicious looking hawk too. The analyst who had 'named’ their target would be delighted.

 

The clerk, for her part, was delighted. She just  _ knew _ she had stopped some sort of international animal smuggling operation! Just wait until she told Becky! The other clerk had told her to get over herself and sign the hawk out, but no! She had known something was fishy!

 

“Miss...ah...Tennison, I appreciate your vigilance, but I do need to ask you to release Mr Henderson and his pet.” Phil smiled in a self depreciating manner, leaning forward as if to bring her into his confidence. “Miss Tennison, this man is mission critical, obviously this is a matter of national security but I must ask that you assist us in this matter?”

 

The flustered clerk flushed under his scrutiny.

 

“Of-of course” She examined his badge once more before signing off on Horus’ paperwork and thrusting it all into Clint's hands. She left the two men and bird as she all but bolted from the room, a faint dismissal trailing behind her.

 

Clint narrowed his eyes as the suit clad man confidently refastened Horus’ crate and hefted it into his arms.

 

“This way Mr Henderson, we are _long_ overdue a meeting.” The archer followed, muscles coiled. There was no way he was letting this Fed take Horus out of his sight.


End file.
